Into the Fire
by Roronoa Emi
Summary: After the death of Marie Antoinette, the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel endeavours to save an unlikely trio. Scarlet Pimpernel crossover with The Knight of Maison-Rouge, a somewhat obscure but wonderful book by Alexandre Dumas. This story acts as an alternate ending to that self-same book, so beware of spoilers. Can be understood by persons with no knowledge of either book.


After the death of Marie Antoinette, the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel endeavours to save an unlikely trio. Scarlet Pimpernel crossover with The Knight of Maison-Rouge, a somewhat obscure but wonderful book by Alexandre Dumas. This story acts as an alternate ending to that self-same book, so please beware of spoilers. **Can be understood by persons with no knowledge of either book.**

Written as a uni project with (but mostly for) one of my darling's classes a few years ago. Poor boy asked for some help and I couldn't refuse him. Found it lying around in the depths of my computer archives and decided to post it since I've been nonexistent on here for some time. For anyone who is/speaks Italian, I AM SO SORRY for any butchering of your lovely language. It was a stipulation of the professor's, as was the specific herbs used, and the personage himself. (I think it was for a natural medicines class or some such...) It made me giggle though because it was highly reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet ... and the first RDJ Sherlock movie. *is shot* So glad I didn't have to do this for my own class. I wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face when the prof handed out the assignment!

In any case, I do hope it is enjoyable. If you've never read The Knight of Maison-Rouge, do not worry, it was written to be understood by persons with no knowledge of either book. Again, do be aware of near-ending spoilers. And I would encourage anyone to read this book (or both hint hint). I thought it had Sir Percy written all over it! ;3

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><p><strong>Into the Fire<strong>

The Conciergerie. The prison that had held the late Queen Antoinette before she had joined the countless scores that had died on the same bloody scaffold. Now it held, among others, three friends. Geneviéve, a young woman of great beauty who had tried to save the Queen before her death and was summarily sentenced to the same fate. Maurice, her lover, a man who had almost been struck down by her rejection not a week earlier. He sat with her in his embrace, doing his outmost to allay her fears. And Lorin, who watched the two lovers as he leaned against the bars of the Conciergerie, alternately glaring at every guard who passed by and quietly attempting to calm his two friends by way of poetry, jokes, and laughing talk.

"Long live the machine of Madame Guillotine! What is the machine of Madame Guillotine? One nick to the neck, as Danton said. What's a nick?"

Who was Lorin? Why a hero of the Republic! A man who had devoted himself to the cause and gaily worshipped France's new Goddess of Reason. A man who had accepted death to be with his friends at the bitter end. Now he paced, he joked, he snarled at the guards. He laughed at death and congratulated Sanson the executioner in verse and song. He strode to and fro with his hands thrust deep in his pockets. His pockets. Suddenly they were not as empty as he had thought. He removed a small scrap of paper. He held the thing with the tips of his fingers, looked down at it with a quizzical distaste, then opened it with a shrug.

_ Hope. And freedom. Keep her safe and I will find you._

At first he thought it a bad joke but the detail of a small red flower inked at the end brought his eyebrows up to his hairline. Nonchalantly, he placed the note carefully back in the pocket from whence it came and finished his turn about the room. He ended back at the bench he had left the two lovers who meant more to him than life itself. True friends. Friends he had been willing to die with. But now there was hope. He sat beside the pair, huddled one against the other in fear and longing.

"Maurice," he whispered in the other man's ear. "I'm going to tell you something important and for heaven's sake don't look surprised." The other man nodded, taking the information without betraying his feelings. There was a way out! An escape that he could use for his love. She shivered in his arms, grief and fear tracing hard lines on her face. He bent his head to hers and whispered the same warning before telling her of their proposed escape. She jolted in his grasp, burying her face in his shoulder to hide the shock. Lorin scanned the room with his eyes and saw no guards observing them. For now, they were safe.

xxx

"They are safe for now but I fear not for long." A tall Englishman paced about a room with five other men. One of them piped up.

"How long have they been in the Conciergerie?"

"A matter of hours. I was lucky to find them when I did. I had hoped to save the girl Genevieve before she was trapped in the there but that plan went sour before we could implement it. … 'Twas a noble thing she did, trying to take the queen's place. It's a demmed shame the other two had to get mixed up in it all."

"Percy, these men you speak of fight for the revolution. They are officers in the ranks of the People. The ones screaming loudest for the fall of the old régime! They…"

"I know what they are, Tony. But Maison-Rouge had dealings with them for months and Geneviéve has fallen in love with Maurice. We cannot be so cold-hearted as to separate two lovers, especially when he and his friend Lorin so valiantly went in after her. She is the most important, no doubt, but we will do all that we can to save her companions as well."

"Right. What's the plan then?" asked Lord Edward Hastings. Sir Percival Blakeney smiled. He was an English dandy and the most brainless fop to set foot in King George's court. But in France, he was known as the Scarlet Pimpernel; a man who defied the Terror and snatched innocents from the very shadow of the guillotine. And when Sir Percy set his mind to something, he would see it done.

He took a long drag on his pipe as he consulted his pocket watch then turned to the man and winked.

"Well, Hastings, I shall tell you properly once our guest has arrived. It has been dangerous for him to make the journey from Italy to us here on the outskirts of Paris, but he was adamant about coming. I expect he should be here in…" Three sharp raps at the door cut him off. He nodded at Lord Anthony Dewhurst to answer it. Two men filed in, both dressed as filthy peddlers.

"Trip go smoothly, Ffoulkes?" Sir Percy asked his disguised lieutenant. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes took a proffered handkerchief and wiped the soot away from his face before answering.

"Brilliantly, thank heavens. We had a run in on the way through Fountainebleau and the border between Italy and France was well watched on both sides. We managed though. And I didn't see anyone following us for any stretch of our journey either."

"Well done. And now, signor," he said turning to the Italian who was cleaning soot out of his beard. "We may make use of your services." The man removed his phygerian cap and bowed a balding head.

"I shall be most glad to help."

"Gentlemen," the Scarlet Pimpernel announced, grabbing the attention of his compatriots. "This is Signor Ulisse Aldrovandi, a most esteemed naturalist and professor from Italy."

"I would perhaps not say 'esteemed,' signor Blakeney, but esperto… how do you say, accomplished?"

"Of course, signor. Please forgive me. Accomplished, no doubt. I trust you have something to show us?"

"Naturalmente." The Italian, a short but stout man, made his way over to the table and placed his sack upon it. Rummaging through its contents, he placed before them a small glass bottle.

"Signori, I give you a way out. These are pills I have concocted from the Rhododendron ponticum, Atropa belladonna, and Helleborus vesicarius. I will not bore you with the process but I can assure you they are potent." Sir Alexander Stowmarries brought his nose to almost touching the container before scrunching it.

"What do they do?"

"Che fingere la morte, mio amico giovane."

"They fake death," Sir Percy translated. He turned to Aldrovandi. "I trust your methods, my friend, but can you give us any assurance that it will succeed?"

"I understand your scetticismo… hum… your skepticism. But I can assure you that it will work."

"How exactly does it fake death, professor?" Piped up Sir Richard Galveston.

"It causes paralysis and slows the heart beat so that it is too faint to detect."

"And what precisely will stop them Frenchies from choppin' their heads off anyway?"

"Saint Denys makes a valid point." Said Sir Percy, as he walked back over to the map on the table. "That is where we come in. Stowmarries will slip them the poison. Dewhurst, Hastings: you two shall be the ones to find them. Stay close and make sure you are on watch when they become affected. You will then recruit Galveston and Saint Denys to help you carry them out. Ffoulkes and I will be passing through on our route from the other prisons to pick up the dead. We will lay them on our cart with the others and ferry them to the western gate. Once we have gotten them safely out of the city we shall head northwest to Epinay-Sur-Seine. There, Signor Aldrovandi shall administer to them the cure."

"Your men will simply slip into the prison and act the part of soldiers? Now it is my turn to disbelieve."

"We have been part of the prison guard for five weeks now, signor," said Sir Andrew quietly. "Originally we had hoped to use our influence to save Her Majesty Queen Marie Antoinette. We were sadly unsuccessful in that venture."

"Quite so, Ffoulkes," Sir Percy said after his friend had finished. "And we all mourn her loss. Let us not waste the chance it has given us to save another three in her place. And God rest her soul." The men bowed their heads in a moment of silent reverence for the executed queen. It had been a deep blow to them all to fail in her rescue; a blow that had strengthened their resolve to save all others possible in return. Percy was the first to raise his head.

"Alright you fellows, get some rest tonight. We all have our roles to play. Now we can only pray for luck to be on our side."

"Do you think we'll need to worry about Chauvelin?" Lord Tony asked quietly.

"One can never be certain with that man," replied the Scarlet Pimpernel. "Let us hope he is too busy gloating over the death of Marie Antoinette to notice the woman who tried to take her place."

xxx

The next day was difficult for all parties involved but the men made a Herculean effort to hide their anxiety. They kept Geneviéve close as ordered; Maurice on her left side and Lorin and her right. They sat quietly at the back of the large room that held the many prisoners but Lorin still made glibe comments at any passerby.

"To keep off the suspicion," he had whispered to Maurice.

"Suspicion?" he had jibed back. "We are already arrested for being suspect. You shutting your mouth for a few hours surely wouldn't hurt our case." It had made Geneviéve smile and that was enough for Lorin to take no offense from his friend. And so the trio waited quietly.

One of the guards approached them with a meagre lunch in hand and began conversing with the subdued Lorin. They talked and laughed, the guard saying how it was unfortunate for such distinguished municipal officers to have gotten mixed up in the whole affair. Lorin had cordially replied that when a woman was involved, all other sense was thrown to the wayside. The guard had nodded gravely at this and shook Lorin's hand to say goodbye. Lorin could feel the prick of paper on his palm and noticed the slight nod and suddenly serious expression from the guard before him.

"Farewell citizen," the guard had said then. "I will not see you tomorrow, I think." He walked off laughing to his post once more and Lorin hurried to read the note.

Courage, my friends. There are three pills on your tray. Each take one and do not despair when you feel the effects. You will see freedom again. Trust me.

The note was once more signed with a single red flower. He whispered it to Maurice who calmly told his love. Then each took a pill and swallowed together, Lorin's words in their minds.

"If we are to die, whether by this or the National Razor, let it be together." And so it was they fell into a deep darkness in which there was no dreaming.

xxx

Geneviéve was the first to waken. Her eyes fluttered open to golden sunshine and a soft mattress beneath her. At first she thought death really had claimed her and she lay still in the warmth.

"Percy!" A voice came from her right. "Percy, she's awake!" A tall man with blond hair and striking blue eyes came into her field of vision. He smiled down at her and spoke in French.

"Mademoiselle? Please do not be frightened. We are here to help you."

"Who… who are you?"

"We are the league of the Scarlet Pimpernel," he said with a bow. "At your service."

"Then… then Maurice!" She sat up quickly but fell back onto the pillows from a sudden bout of dizziness.

"Please, lie still signorina." Aldrovandi had come with Percy and now sat on the other side of the bed with a cup in his hand. "Help me raise her," he said to the man across from him. Percy nodded and they propped her up on some pillows. "Drink this," the older man said gently, bringing the cup to her lips. "It will help."

Maurice and Lorin awoke soon after. If they had not been so weak from the poison, they would have jumped up and tried to fight. When they discovered they were out of Paris and free from the threat of the guillotine, they rejoiced. Geneviéve cried and Maurice stretched out his hand to her as he was similarly confined to his bed. The other members of the League left them in the charge of Aldrovandi and made plans for their long trek to the coast. They would travel two hundred kilometers on their journey to the sea. But Sir Percy's yacht, the _Day Dream_, lay docked in La Havre, and from there, England and freedom.

Fin

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><p>Again, done as an assignment but I tried as much as I could for creativity. Please leave a comment if you like. :3<p> 


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